Violet Princess
by Anastaisya
Summary: When a beautiful Draenei finds herself saved by a handsome Blood Elf, will she be able to repress her gratitude, or will it blossom into something greater, eventually consuming them both?
1. Earth

_Author's Note: This is my first work of fan-fiction, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! Fair Warning: This story is Rated M for a reason!_

* * *

The grass sighed happily into her soft cheeks. The wind danced impishly through her loose hair. The sunlight grazed its soft fingertips across her eyelids, stirring her to rise. Somewhere far to her left (she assumed it was her left, for her senses were too blissfully pacified to be accurate) a brook softly sang as it fell over the loose rocks of a ravine. She was in utter bliss here, in her own hidden world, her grove of jade and lavender, surrounded by everything sacred to her: the earth.

Her body knew this place well, muscles shifting softly into the familiar soil, face nestled perfectly into a lush pillow of emerald moss. Her fingers braided gracefully through the millions of tiny blades that surrounded her, still garbed in beads of dew. The delicate wildflowers worshipped her presence, each reaching their Iris-kissed faces to her. A symphony streamed through the air, expertly composed by a nearby family of bluebirds. She was on the very essence of paradise.

But something was wrong. This couldn't have been her grove; she was days, weeks, even months away from home. In fact, the Great Sea itself stood between her and the clearing. So where was she? And why couldn't she remember why she was here?_ This isn't home. So where am I?_

Her eyes snapped open, instantly blinded by the golden breath of the sun. After a brief moment, the veil of light withdrew to the right of her peripheral vision, and she soon regretted ever having eyes in the first place.

Not three feet before her lay a Gnome, her face still reading the signs of adolescence. Just between the pink-haired girl's eyes, a cruel, primitive arrow seemingly slithered its way out of a freshly welled stream of crimson that trickled long the statuesque countenance. The equally pink lips were parted just slightly, having tried to form one last word before their bearer fell into eternal rest.

"Anastaisya!" a nearby voice cried. _Anastaisya? Oh! That's my name! At least, I think it is… _A wizened, old Night Elf, with hair and beard whiter than snow, dropped to her side, shaking her violently. "Anastaisya! Are you up?" the man pleaded. Anastaisya merely nodded, still transfixed in horror by the sight before her. The elf scooped her up, but swiftly realized that she was in no condition to move. A large gash was dripping violet from Anastaisya's neck, and she needed to be healed.

"Stay still," the elf warned. She complied, and stared endlessly in disbelief at the lost gnome before her. Disregarding the corpse, the elf placed his hands in the earth near Anastaisya's head and a soft, citrine glow resonated into the grass that it reached. Instantly, the small leaves grew and extended to the wound on her neck, laying gently along it and emitting a dim hum of energy. The vines, under the command of the nearby druid, softly brushed the open skin, sealing the edges together with the aura trailing through them. After a few moments, they retreated, and the skin below bore no presence of having ever been cleaved in two.

"A very successful procedure if I do say so," the elderly elf smiled. "Your wound was deep, and barely missed any vital arteries or channels."

Anastaisya merely nodded again, continuing to gawk at the poor Gnomish girl. The elf, noticing the gaze of his patient, reached over and closed her target's eyes. The loss of contact seemed to tear Anastaisya from her stupor, and she finally acknowledged her savior. "Dank you," she breathed, still weak. Her head was pounding like the hammers of Ironforge (a simile that she didn't understand at the time).

"Don't worry about it," the elf chuckled. "After all, we need you alive and well, don't we?"

Anastaisya looked into his eyes for the answer to his question. Noticing her confusion, the elf laughed lightly and said something about it being rhetorical. She smiled softly and attempted to raise herself. The beating in her head worsened and she closed her eyes harshly.

"Ana?" the elf inquired, resting his fingertips against her temple. He could feel the light thump of blood and reached into the bag at his waist for a small leaf, which he ground lightly in his hands and placed against her lips. "Swallow it," he gently ordered.

After a moment of disorientation, Anastaisya flicked her tongue across her lips and inhaled the grains of the leaf quickly. Almost as soon as she did, the drums in her skull subsided, allowing her to bring herself to a sitting position without any further pain. Her neck still tingled slightly, but she barely noticed.

"Better?" a new voice chimed, the end of the word sounding almost like an echo. Anastaisya jolted slightly, not having realized the druid wasn't alone, and looked to her right to see a slender Human woman kneeling behind another body, her hands hovering along the body about an inch or so from the skin. There was a soft, pearly shine in the space between the woman and the person below her, a thick-bearded Dwarf who seemed to have an injury somewhere on his chest.

"Um...yes. Very much, dank you," Anastaisya replied, bringing herself to her knees. She rubbed her forehead, trying to alleviate some more of the grogginess clouding her mind. She still couldn't recall where she was, or why, and wasn't yet sure if what the elf had called her by her true name. She did, however, notice that this Dwarf, his long, reddish-brown beard pushed away from his body, was in great trouble.

"Oh dear!" she cried, seeing the large amount of blooding seeping through his shirt. A small pile of plate armor lay off to the side, and she figured it must be his. The breastplate bore a large gash in the middle. She looked back to the woman, who shook her head lightly.

"No response," she stated blankly. Her hands lost that strange light as she drifted away from the man before her, sighing defeatedly. "We've been losing too many, Ariden," she worried, addressing the Night Elf. "I'm afraid the battle will be lost soon."

At this the druid stood. "We can't give up yet! Their souls could still return to their bodies!"

The female, most likely a priest, shook her head again. "Spirit Guides can't send a soul back to an unsalvageable body, and the enemy has been far too vicious today for us to save any of them."

A strong wave of sadness seemed to wash over Ariden, and he sighed loudly. Turning back to Anastaisya, he offered out his hand. She took it and rose slowly to her feet. _Feet? No...these aren't feet..._ Looking down, she lifted her robes slightly, then screamed. "Hooves?"

"What are you yelling about? The enemy will here you!" the woman scolded. Upon seeing Anastaisya's panic, she crossed her arms and tried her hardest to hold back a grin. "Yes, hooves. Draenei tend to have those, you know."

_Draenei?_

Seeing the still puzzled fervor on the girl before her, the Human scoffed. "Did you really hit your head that hard?"

_Hit my head?_

"When that troll attacked you," Ariden spoke up this time, "you barely made it away from the sword, merely earning that cut on your neck. However, you also managed to trip over this Dwarf and fall right on your face." He laughed heartily and pointed to the corpse of the troll (what she assumed to be a troll) near a small shed. He had a large series of claw marks along his back that were still leaking blood.

"I...hit...my head? And so...I forget?" Anastaisya asked, her accent making her unsure of her words. The Human nodded and placed a hand on the Draenei's head. Anastaisya noticed that the warm light returned and seeped into her, then felt the fog lift from her thoughts. Instantly, a wave of blood and steel rushed back into her head, and she seemed to stand taller, more sure of her body.

_I am Anastaisya, a Draenei shaman and a hero of the Exodar, my home, a ship that crashed into this planet. I am a healer, and I'm in a battle for Arathi Basin, currently defending the stables, and trying to claim valuable resources for the Alliance, a force of good, made up of six different races: Humans, Night Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, Worgen, who, as I recall, used to be Humans, and, of course, Draenei. This Gnome...I tried to heal her and was attacked. I have a job to do..._

She nodded to the Human. "Dank you much." She grasped the woman's hands and shook them gently, failing to notice that she didn't resist. She then turned to Ariden and did the same, and finally turned back and gasped loudly as the priest fell to the ground and was replaced by a wickedly grinning Orc.

"Get back, Ana!" Ariden yelled, pushing her gently to the side. As she stumbled frantically, the druid became surrounded by a golden mist. Through it, Anastaisya could see his body becoming more and more elongated and swollen. Next, he began sprouting thin, silver hair along his entire body. It grew thick and long, and she noticed that it was actually closer to fur than just hair. Finally, his mouth and nose elongated and squared, and his teeth grew sharp and jagged. He was frighteningly animalistic, and Anastaisya couldn't help but be scared by the sight. At last, the mist dissolved into the surrounding air and the large bear before her growled and stamped his paws on the earth before him.

A few moments went by in which nothing else happened, then, in the blink of an eye, the Orc charged. In his hands, two vilely crooked daggers cut the very wind itself as he lunged forward at a speed nothing his size should seemingly be capable of. However, Ariden was skilled himself and dodged the rogue's initial swing, turning quick enough to drag his claws along the back of his enemy. The armor was far too thin, and the steel-like claws gouged deep into the Orc's back. He was, unfortunately, very large and his stamina surpassed Anastaisya's expectations. A look of pure rage radiated from the monster's eyes as he turned to face Ariden, ignoring the cascade of blood from his wounds. He quickly lashed his daggers at the druid's face, first with the right, then the left. There was a smirk on Ariden's muzzle as he dodged the first, but the grin soon fell from his face and was revived on the other's as a gut-wrenching sound tore through the area.

A fountain of blood breached from Ariden's right eye, and a roar blasted from his wide jaws. Despite the dagger still in his retina, though, he turned his head and clamped his teeth down harshly on his attacker's arm. With alarming force, and jerked his neck sharply and, following a horrendous snapping sound, the large green rogue was tossed through the air, smashing into a wooden post with such force that the bones in his skull shattered and his entire cranium seemed to deflate like a zeppelin. The scene brought vomit to Anastaisya's throat, but she suppressed it successfully.

With a loud grunt, Ariden collapsed and was surrounded by the golden mist again. His body shifted easily back to its more familiar elven form, and Anastaisya, roused from her sickly terror, rushed to his side. Upon immediate inspection, she could easily tell that the eye was lost forever. She did need to heal the wound, however, and thus called upon her shamanistic powers to pull a stream of water from the nearby brook. As it drifted through the air, an invisible force bound it into a certain path to its goal. Once her restorative totems were erected from the earth and the healing liquid was before her, Anastaisya pressed her hands into the floating, blue orb before her. Upon doing so, the water coated itself around her fingers as she pressed for Ariden's crimson-stained face. "I promise dis von't hurt," she assured, then reached for him.

As she had sworn, there was no pain, and Ariden sighed in relief as Anastaisya cycled the water gently through his wound, flushing out any impurities and keeping the exposed flesh cooled. Finally, when she was sure that the injury was cleansed, she placed a soft hand on Ariden's cheek. "Dis next stage vill burn, but only for a second. I need to seal de vound," she warned. When he nodded in understanding, she continued, bringing the majority of the water to the surface of the laceration with one hand, and sparking a small, azure fire to her fingertips with the other. Her hands moved quickly, drawing the water from Ariden's face, boiling it instantly with the flame, and replacing it to the open flesh, cleanly searing it shut, and lastly cooling the water into ice to reduce the pain and finish the scarring.

Ariden, not having made a noise once, raised his hand to his empty eye socket as Anastaisya removed hers. He felt gently at the small bit of scar tissue at the center of the half-sphere of skin. "I'm so sorry dat I had to seal it dat vay," she pleaded. "De vound vas in a very delicate area and I couldn't risk using a less accurate healing procedure and I-" He pressed a finger to her lips, effectively silencing her.

"You saved me. That's all that matters." He smiled and stood, pulling her up with him. Near them, the human's body stirred. Ariden swooped down and lifted the priest's head. "Elyzabythe?" he shouted lightly. There was a soft murmur from the woman's lips, and both Ariden and Anastaisya swiftly were working there separate forms of healing magic to keep their friend alive, one with her totems and water, the other with a swarm of foliage.

After a few agonizing minutes, Elyzabythe was able to pull herself weakly to her knees, and then, with the assistance of the healers, she was brought to her feet. Ariden picked her up in his arms and turned to Anastaisya. "I'm sorry but I have to return her to Trollbane Hall for recovery. Will you be alright here by yourself until I return?" He shifted uncomfortably as he thought of what could happen in his absence.

"It is only just up dat hill, no?" Anastaisya responded, smiling. She patted Elyzabythe gently on the shoulder, aiming her next words to the priest. "Please make a hasty recovery, friend. May de Light of de Naaru shine upon you." At her words, the woman smiled weakly and muttered something about incompetence, then ordered Ariden onward. He chuckled and proceeded, looking back at Anastaisya every few steps or so. Finally, he and his passenger crested over the grassy hillside and were out of sight.

Now alone and vulnerable, Anastaisya moved to the flag that bore the Lion's Head crest of the Alliance. She called her defensive totems from the soil, then took shelter at the entrance to the small stable, remaining partially concealed from attackers. After a few more minutes, she grew restless from the alarming amount of inactivity near her. In the distance, she could make out the shapes of people fighting above the cliff at the lumber mill, and at the blacksmith there were several guards of the Horde stationed around the flag. Strangely, though, there were no warriors of either faction on any of the surrounding roads, and the loneliness drove the small Draenei to the brink of madness.

It wasn't the loneliness, however, that did. Instead, it was the wicked growl that was aimed at her from behind. It was the pulse of hot breath on her neck from the lips of an unheard intruder. It was the feeling of being pinned to the hard, cold earth and held down by an immense weight from her attacker. It was the sound of her robe being torn from her pale, amethyst body. It was the face of a massive troll, his eyes as red as his fiery hair. What tossed her spiraling into madness was terror.

"Well, 'ello dere, Girlie…"


	2. Blood

_Author's Note: This next chapter pushes closer to the M-Rating than the last, mostly for violence and rape. Consider yourself warned!_

* * *

Blood... It was everywhere... It was all she could see, all she could smell, all she could taste...

_I can't move..._

Her body was weak. No, it was beyond weak; it was numb, broken, paralyzed by agony and fear. She had never felt mercilessly defeated before, and, despite her best efforts, couldn't convince herself that she would live to know if she ever would feel this way again.

A loud grunt, a light shudder, and a rush of heat between Anastaisya's legs let her know that he had finished with her for the... _Seventh? Eighth time? I can't remember... _Her hopelessness and anguish was embodied in a silent whimper, and she clenched her eyes shut at the thought of his body- as well as many other things- inside of her. Then he began moving again.

"Eheheheh... You enjoyin' yerself yet, Girlie? I know I am. You feel so damned good...inside and out...and taste even bettah..."

Anastaisya cringed not only at his now freely-exploring tongue, but at the way that his natural, Zandali-rooted accent turned up the end of every word. It was a sound she once felt intriguing, but now? It was repulsive; sinister. Just his voice alone was enough to somatify another breach of fright in her, curling her toes and forcing a rodent-like squeal from her lungs.

"Oh, what 'ave we 'ere? Did you like dat as much as I did?" the Troll piqued, obviously misinterpreting her reaction. Another chuckle, then his monstrous tusks were dragging themselves along her lavender skin, softly etching rosy lines into her. A deep, guttural moan resonated from somewhere in his chest as the man found an angle in Anastaisya that reeled him with pleasure. Likewise did she feel the disgust.

"Please..." she gasped, consciously making a noise for the first time in a half-hour. "Please don't...don't..."

The hulking beast above her merely rumbled in laughter and, if at all possible, ground into her with even more energy, trying his damnedest to elicit a moan or sigh from the woman beneath him. Each time he pressed in, his person flaring with heat that echoed throughout her body, he pushed just that much closer to doing so.

Finally, as he neared climax for what was the eighth time (Anastaisya was surprisingly accurate with her assumption), just such a sound peeked through her silky lips. It was soft, almost insignificant enough to be missed, but he caught it barely, and it drove him into a state of bloodlust. Now that he had broken her into submission, he was going to destroy her entirely.

With the speed of a gryphon, he turned her around on him and slammed her against the wall in front of them. Her face and breasts were smashed heavily into the firm wood, and she cried out sharply as at least ten-too-many splinters burrowed themselves into her flesh, each tapping a light stream of blood from her veins. Her tail, which had long since forsaken its endeavor to resist his entry, was folded harshly upwards against her back. However, this pain was minuscule in comparison to that which seared between her legs.

* * *

Blood... And, this time, it wasn't only the result of cuts, gashes, scrapes, and that of the like. Her entire body was laced with masterfully carved patterns and shapes, some from the small knife the Troll had buried into her on more than one occasion, and some from the dreadful protrusions that peered from behind the blue-skinned creature's upper lip.

"Y'know, dese be de markin's of de Zandali voodoo 'ealahs and priests." he mused from behind her, still plunging his way into her now blood-and-semen-filled center. The sheer size of the Troll was enough to cause her pain, but the force and lust that intoxicated his actions caused his movements to hit her in all the wrong ways, pushing and pulling and breaking skin. The intense friction burned her as well, and each time his body would rush against the blisters inside of her, she would wail in agony, bleeding more profusely than before.

Anastaisya writhed beneath him, her tears mixing with other fluids from both bodies, and, upon losing her balance, she collapsed into the vile concoction. Another amused cackle erupted from the atrocity behind her, and he picked up speed. He was nearing another of his countless orgasms, and as his mass increased from the rush of blood, he glided across her interior lacerations once more. A screech that would startle Death itself tore through her throat, and she felt the enormous body above her buck and give in, slamming down onto her. With a loud snap and gush of violet from her dry lips, Anastaisya, at last, found solace in unconsciousness.

* * *

Blood... But what Anastaisya initially failed to realize was that there was now a deep crimson-brown mixed in with the usual lilac that coursed through her. Her only wish was to get away from the putrid liquids that surrounded her, and she attempted to raise herself from the floor of the stables. Expectedly, she had no strength, and, with a slight twitch, she forfeited and merely lay there, defeated.

"Don't move a muscle. The damage is far too severe for mistakes to be a possibility."

Too weak to even attempt to move again, she grunted a mangled consent, then a whimper of terror as the presence of the voice sank in. She pushed with all of her resolve to try to rise from the ground, but invisible hands held her still.

"Fear not, Draenei. I mean you no harm," the speaker, a male, assured. A sense of protection and security eased through her body, and she noticed the feeling of smooth fabric enveloping her. He had covered her with a blanket, making her feel more comfortable, now that she was no longer nude. She couldn't keep the tears from flooding her eyes, though, and gentle sobs rocked her person, but were soon silenced as a gentle warmth mingled into her chest.

Her heart, which was, at one point, fluttering in panic, now calmed itself, and, after a slight crunch, was no longer being suffocated by her ribs. The pain in her tail and horns, which she had barely been able to acknowledge, was subdued and the awkward curvature of the former was repositioned to its normal, sweeping angles. The sculpted scars, which mazed around her body like vines, lost their sting and reabsorbed the precious, heliotrope life-water that had been spilled across her surface. Her insides, once chapped and raw, now were restored to their usual moistness. Anastaisya couldn't help but blush at the feeling of this last stage of mending.

"Damn the Horde," the enigmatic savior spouted.

_The Horde... Enemy of the Alliance, and a mosh of forgotten races that, merely out of necessity, had banded together to stand against their pursuers. It consists of Orcs, Trolls, Goblins, Tauren, giant minotaur-like creatures, Forsaken, which were an abhorrent resurrection of those who deserved to rest, and Blood Elves._

Feeling proud of her returning memory, Anastaisya turned her face gently to see her rescuer, expecting a Night Elf or Human, due to the dialect, a rather calm and even usage of Common, the shared language of the Alliance. What her gaze met, though, astounded her.

Looking down into her pale, silvery-blue eyes were a pair of vermillion, shimmering emeralds that danced against the softly tanned skin of the face they adorned, the features of which were strikingly beautiful and gentle, but promised years of experience in battle and murder. A slight, goldenrod tuft of a goatee perched below the defined, peach lips, and were the identical shade of the slender eyebrows- which delicately protruded several inches off of the side of the face- and hair, a bronze-gold mane with streaks and tips the color of coppery rust. The long, angelic strands were drawn back into a high ponytail that flared out slightly as they fell and swayed behind the man's head and between his fine, long, upward-pointed ears.

Dumbfounded by his stunning appearance, Anastaisya barely found herself capable of speech, but forced the sounds out of her now-dry mouth "Blood Elf..." A soft, single nod signified his understanding of her fear. "Blood...Elf..." she repeated, more reluctantly this time. Another nod, then a moment of seemingly-endless gazes. Seemingly.

"I apologize for the rush, but you are in no state to fight, let alone talk. Also, as we sit here, a rather large and menacing Troll's spirit is trekking its way back to a severely, but not hopelessly, mangled body."

Upon hearing this, Anastaisya turned a little further, ignoring the Blood Elf's plea for her not to move too much, to see a massive, teal carcass splayed out in the middle of the stable. The form, drenched in a strange mixture of colors, shuddered gently, pulsing more blood from the massive cleaving in its chest. Recalling the fact of the unnatural regenerative abilities of Trolls, she knew that, even in his current state, this one would only be in pain for about an hour.

Too distracted from dread, Anastaisya did not question what had happened, but, rather, shivered in fear. The Blood Elf noted this, and pulled a robe from his pack, helping her to dress in it swiftly. In an instant, he had masterfully craned her into his arms without disturbing the trunk of her body in the least.

Just as swiftly, and very lithely, he sprang onto a very majestic hawkstrider, its feathers a wondrous display of purples and greens. The creature seemed to dislike the presence of the Alliance woman, and crowed its disdain, to which the Blood Elf leaned forward and whispered a rather poetic-sounding sentence in Thalassian, the Blood Elven language. The bird cooed in response, and, after acknowledging its master's secure position on its back, was sprinting down the dirt roads of Arathi.

Still disoriented, Anastaisya bobbed lightly on the back of the beautiful animal, mesmerized by its presence. The man holding her smiled amusedly. "Quite the specimen, isn't she?" The Draenei nodded, and fell into a drowsy stupor from the repetitive, massaging gait of the hawkstrider. She had just begun to doze off when the movement stopped, and she released a displeased grunt. The elf laughed, and, still holding her horizontally level in his arms, dismounted the very curious animal, which turned to the couple and nuzzled the strange, colored woman before her.

As soon as his passenger was settled into him, the Blood Elf was in motion, springing through a small patch of underbrush as he kept himself and Anastaisya out of sight from any other living things. He sensed a slight disturbance in the woman's position, and looked down to see her cautiously studying his face. With a slight and very attractive grin, he spoke.

"I promised you no harm, and we Blood Elves are too proud as a race to break a promise." He chuckled softly at the self-downing observation, but his grin soon fell. "You were weak, on the verge of death, and, at the rate that Troll was going, you would have been revived repeatedly to the same excruciating scene. I was passing by, en route to the mines from the lumber mill, and was appalled by what I saw, and, well, here we are now."

Anastaisya merely gawked at him more, then closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, drained of willpower and energy. Sighing, she succumbed to the sweet lure of slumber, vowing silently to worry again when she woke.

Not a minute later, the elf halted his running, but was careful to make sure his partner was still asleep. After assuring himself twice that she was, he proceeded, this time at a simple stroll. He turned to his pet, dismissing her, and watched as she sprinted ahead to where she would wait for his arrival. The Blood Elf smiled to himself as a wave of security pooled through him.

The next moment, it was gone. As he neared their destination, which was a small clearing above the pool between the mine and farm, he noticed a small party of Horde warriors on the road heading down to the mine. _Two Orc men, a Forsaken man, and a Blood Elf woman_. He knew he could easily evade the three males, but the woman was a fellow Blood Elf, and would sense the Fel Magics in him instantly. "Hmm," he muttered, pondering his chances, and then turned to set his Draenei down behind a tree. She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. "Stay here," he warned. "There are some scouts on the road and we can't get around them." "I…can help…" she stammered, only to be silenced by him shaking his head. "You're still far too weak, and they won't expect me to attack them."

Anastaisya shook her head this time, and proceeded to stand herself weakly with the aid of the tree. Her knees shook, and the elf made to hold her up, but she held out her hand, signaling to let her try. "No…I vill help…de female, she is…Blood Elf, no?" The man nodded. "Den she…vill sense me too, and vill try…to get around you. I can fight…even if I can barely stand."

At this, three large streams of water drifted from the surface of the nearby pool, and twisted their way towards the shaman, braiding and weaving around her as if dancing with the Draenei. They fed smaller streams of hydration into the woman's body, the moisture disappearing into her skin. Almost instantaneously, her stance strengthened, and her face regained its full color. "Now, go," she ordered, and the orbs around her condensed into little planets with cores of solid ice.

Seeing the determination in the woman's face, the elf turned and drew a sword from his hip. "We don't aim to kill. Only to weaken." With a nod from the shaman, he was off, nimbly leaping from boulder to boulder as he semi-circled the group, planning on drawing them away from her. Upon finding the perfect place to attack from, which happened to be just behind a shrub on the opposite side of the road from his companion, he pulled on a face mask and raised his shield from his back. Raising his sword slightly, a glint of creamy white grew from the hilt, coursing its way down the blade.

"A paladin?" Anastaisya thought to herself. But, before she could stand there and talk to herself any longer, he was moving down the small hill before him, throwing light in the stunned faces of the soldiers. As she watched, both Orcs were knocked unconscious in a matter of seconds. The Forsaken, however, was prepared by this time and lunged for the elf, daggers in both rotting hands. Seeing that the elf had his back turned, Anastaisya hurled one of her orbs, which she had fully hardened into ice, at the undead man. It flew quickly and accurately, hitting the rogue in his decaying skull with enough force to break his jaw entirely off, sending it flying meters away. This only irritated the rogue, though, who turned his attention to the Draenei, then pointed to her and gargled something in Orcish, then charged. The Blood Elf woman turned to face the shaman, a Fireball spell already on her lips.

"Oh, no you don't," the paladin shouted, and threw a summoned spear of light straight into the back of the Forsaken, paralyzing him. He then turned his attention to the mage woman, but knew he wouldn't be able to stop her spell in time. Nonetheless, he ran for her, sword drawn, and stopped just before a rock hurled itself between him and the mage. He looked to Anastaisya, and saw by the look on her face that the Blood Elf woman was responsibility.

Just then, a huge sphere of flame erupted from the superheated air between the mage's hands, and, with a thrust of arcane energy, the fire was hurled at the cliff-side Draenei. In the first half of a second, however, she had already thrown one of her ice crystals, which made direct contact with the enemy spell. With a loud snap and a multi-colored explosion, both spells were diffused into the air. The elf, expecting the Draenei to have been destroyed, turned her attention to the paladin, another spell at her hands. In the second half of that same second, Anastaisya had launched her last frozen shard, which ripped through the thinning, iridescent magic cloud, and pummeled its way into the side of the mage. The green-eyed sorceress was sent soaring into the opposing cliff, inevitably striking her head on a large stone. She was rendered unconscious immediately.

"Run!" the paladin called, but there was no lateral movement from the Draenei. Instead, she collapsed, rolling down the hillside and splashing into the pool behind her. The Blood Elf moved like lightning, reaching Anastaisya in seconds, pulling her from the water. The shaman's two long ponytails had both come loose, and her soaked hair and clothes clung to her body, making her heavy. This didn't bother the elf, though. He hoisted her onto his shoulder and whistled loudly. Soon after, a loud caw signaled the arrival of his hawkstrider. What he wasn't expecting, though, was the loud roar that followed.

Upon jumping down from the rocky ledge, Anastaisya on his back, the paladin was met by his bird, who took the Draenei on her back, then the Blood Elf. She began to move for the source of the roar, but her master held her back. Defiantly, she trudged on, ignoring the orders thrown her way.

Rounding a massive stone, she finally stopped, leaning her tail sharply to the side and forcing her rider off, but held her back level enough to keep the Draenei steady. The angered Blood Elf turned to yell at the hawkstrider, but a firm beak spun him in the other direction. As he turned, the elf's attitude hastily changed from fury to panic as he came face-to-face with an oversized tiger.

Before he could move, someone jumped down from the back of the beast, and ordered the large cat out of his way. The tiger did as it was told, and sidestepped, revealing a tall Night Elf man with long, white hair and a similar beard. The identity of the stranger eluded him for a moment, but the realization hit him like a ball of ice.

"Ariden…"


	3. Difference

_Author's Note: My deepest and dearest apologies, Readers! What with the Purge and_ _all, I was fearful of posting and having my story killed before it even began to blossom._

_Also, to my favorite girls (You know who you are!): I love you so much and thank you for_ _encouraging (forcing) me to continue writing! It makes me proud to be acknowledged for_ _my work, especially by some of my closest friends!_

* * *

The air seemed so…calm. It was as if there was no turmoil or fear in the surrounding battlefield, which, understandably, was a very unlikely notion. There were no screams. No clash of metal. No bodies strewn haphazardly along the rugged lanes of Arathi…that is, no unliving ones.

In the center of the stone floor of the blacksmith, a single female, with skin of orchid and hair of night, lay, motionless and serene, claimed by the siren-calls of dreams. The only true testament to her spirit's presence was the perfectly even respiration of her chest, the minute rise-and-fall of her breathing rocking her softly in a light slumber. Her raven locks flowed from her crown, between and around her delicately sweeping horns, streaming across her back and onto the cobbled surface beneath.

Nearby, the flames of the smithy licked at their bars, begging to be released; to consume all before them. Instead, their lumination simply waltzed onto the now stirring eyelids of the Draenei before them.

With a gentle flutter, the flawlessly curled lashes released their grasps on each other, freeing two twin diamonds from their fleshed bedchambers. As they adjusted focus, Anastaisya's eyes recaptured the shining essence of consciousness, and reflected the sunset light of fire back to its source.

Suddenly, the crypt-silent room was breached by a loud huff of air, startling the young female into a panic. It wasn't until she acknowledged the heaviness of her lungs that she realized the noise was a yawn from her own self. She sighed in relief, only to find that the sound of her breath was still a strange thing to hear. Her mind required several more seconds to fully comprehend itself, and, once it had, she grasped the reality of why the noise troubled her.

_I shouldn't be alive. _

She immediately took inventory of her own body, ensuring the existence of her tail, horns, limbs, hooves, and skull. When she was finally satisfied with her findings, she attempted to stand, only to collapse under her weight. The muscles in her legs were failing her, and tiny sobs crept up her throat as she recalled why. After that experience yesterday, she doubted she would ever fully accept her body again. Looking down, she observed the off-hued engravings that vined about her person, and had collected the proof she would need to foundation her self-hatred.

_I'm so…vile. My skin…my body…I feel so…broken… And after yesterday… _

Anastaisya's thoughts trailed off in her head as she began to question the actual placement of time that she was in.

_Yesterday…was it truly? How long was I asleep? Where was I asleep? _

"V-Vhere am I?" she cried, noting that this, contrarily, was not the Arathi blacksmith. Her fervor increased sharply, and when a timid voice sounded behind her, she screeched, whipping around swiftly, despite her physical exhaustion, and crashed to the floor as her body forfeited once more. Her check rammed itself abruptly into the stone beneath her, and, seeing her great distress, the voice's carrier rushed forward, dropping next to the disoriented Draenei.

"I-I'm so sorry!" a young, trilling voice pleaded, swatting the ebony hair from the face of the incapacitated woman before it. "I-I d-didn't mean to f-frighten you!"

Anastaisya was shocked to come face to face with yet another suit of blazing, jade eyes, and merely froze at the meaning behind them.

_Blood…Elf… _

The elf, a girl with the outward appearance of a small child, most likely seven years of age, receiving no reply, grew fearful and proceeded to shriek in high-pitched Thalassian. Instantly, loud footsteps were heard approaching the room, and both females were relieved at the arrival of a very familiar, blonde-haired, green-eyed paladin.

"Emeryld?" he shouted, soon followed by a much more powerful "Anastaisya!"

His entire being was across the room in less than a second, and his arms cradled the shocked Draenei, who clutched him tightly, then looked cautiously back to the elf child, who was prancing around excitedly in a small circle, still squealing in Thalassian.

"Emeryld, please calm yourself, dear," another voice approached, laden with age and weariness. An elderly woman, with a tattered apron and her stark white hair pulled into a high bun, appeared in the doorway, and released only a gentle smile in response to Anastaisya's sudden yelp. Her pleasant face, though, only further assured the Draenei of the woman's true nature.

"Forsaken!"

"Yes, madam. I am what you speak," she replied in flawless Common, with a very even and happy tone, still bearing a warm grin. Her lips, Anastaisya noticed, were what truly revealed her origin. Aside from being being very sunken and pale, much like the rest of her face, they were also scared from having been sewn shut at some point, then torn harshly, most likely from desperation, thus rending the skin into a mangled series of gashes and holes. When the woman smiled, the scars stretched and seemed that they might shred even further; however, the skin didn't give, and merely remained a painful sight, rather than a bloodied fiasco.

_Well…there probably wouldn't even be any blood, seeing as she's…undead… _

The woman slowly approached the frightened Draenei and reached out a calloused hand, lined with rows of stitches. Despite her intense apprehension, Anastaisya couldn't help but to take the hand in her own.

_This woman, though a blasphemous defiance of nature, isn't vicious or disgusting, truly. Just…different. _

With a small upturn of her own lips, Anastaisya shook the offered hand twice, only to be rewarded with a sharp cracking sound and a disembodied index finger in the palm of her pale hand. The Forsaken woman merely began to roar with laughter and retrieved her lost digit. "Oh, Lami! What're ya gonna do with yourself, ya ol' bat?" she crowed merrily, drawing a spool of cheap thread and a tiny sewing needle from a pocket in her apron. Within moments, her finger was back in its rightful place. A slight, opal-white glow leaked from the stitch, and, once it dissipated, Lami flexed her finger and grunted in contentment. "There we are! Not even close to bein' good as new!" she cackled. The entire time, Anastaisya merely rested in the Blood Elf man's arms, staring at the woman, disbelief written on every cell of her face.

"I-I," she stammered, trying to compose herself. "I'm so sorry! I-I didn't dink dat vould happen and I apologize greatly for de trouble I may have caused! A-are you alright?"

Lami merely chuckled at her outburst. "One: I find it wonderfully hilarious that ya are more concerned about a Forsaken than yerself, Missy! And two: It happens all the time! Just last week, I was makin' dinner when I dropped a bowl on this same hand and BAM!" Her arms flew into the air for emphasis, "I hit it so damned hard that three o' these babies flew off, and one even made it outta window!" To even further enthuse her storytelling, her arms were now swinging wildly. Behind her, Anastaisya heard a rumbling chuckle from the lungs of the paladin, and couldn't help but lean into its comfort.

"So I go to get it, an' what happens?" Lami continued. "A damned squirrel runs of with it and hides in a tree!" Her hands flew in the air to prove her exasperation, and Anastaisya giggled quietly at the display before her. For some reason, Lami's excitement made her seem completely unthreatening enough for her to forget that she was a supposed enemy. That didn't seem to matter to her at that moment. "So I look for somethin' ta throw at the bastard, and I, bein' the absolute genius that I am, throw my almost fingerless hand at it, only to lose it in the bushes behin' the tree it's in!" Her limbs flailed wildly once again. "So I goes to get it, and all of a sudden a squirrel with a finger in its mouth falls on my head! Lil' shit apparently tried ta eat it, only to get poisoned by the black magics in the bones!"

This time, when her hands soared into the air, only one of them bothered to come back down with the wrist it was attached to. The other sailed across the room and out a window, shattering the glass. Lami, absorbing that she now needed to find her again-missing appendage as well as clean up the shattered mess and repair the window itself, grumbled a very deafeated "Fuck" under her breath, to which Emeryld finally lost herself in laughter, soon followed by both Lami and Anastaisya. The male Blood Elf simply smirked widely and shook his head.

After a few more seconds of gasping and shuddering with choked guffaws, Emeryld stood from her place of the floor and walked to the hacking Forsaken. "I'll help you find your hand, Lami!" she offered, taking note of the usage of Common by everyone else. The woman moved to pat the child on the head, only to knock her on the head with her exposed ulna. "Ow! Lami!"

"Sorry, sweetheart," Lami assured, reverting to her grandmotherly attitude. She obviously had a very powerful weakness, and that was Emeryld, who surely could only be the male elf's daughter. Anastaisya grinned widely, only to recall her former terror, and shoved herself from the arms of the Blood Elf man.

"Vait! Forsaken…Blood Elves… Vhere am I?" She cried, steadily welling with tears as her fear consumed her greater. "Vhat do you vant from me?" Lami took this as a sign to hurry Emeryld from the room and secure the door behind her. The male remained, however, and Anastaisya was soon engulfed with dread. "You're n-not going to…" she began, but couldn't bring herself to voice her panicked assumption. Her memories were too horrendous for her to allow their resurfacing.

The elf frowned deeply, understanding her plight. "Damn the Horde…" he grumbled, before moving to lift the trembling Draenei before him and gently deposit her into a bed in a corner of the room, which Anastaisya had come to notice was truly just a nice bedroom. An iron fireplace, and not a forge, crackled against a far wall. He wrapped her tightly in blankets, and, as much as she may have wanted to struggle, it wasn't an option. Her body was still far too weak.

"Understand this," he began, "I may be a Blood Elf, and I may have originally fought under the banner of the Horde, but I no longer swear my fealty to the Horde alone. I fight for Azeroth and her people, not a band of misfit races that is crumbling faster by the second. My true allegiance is with the Argent Crusade, and, having met many denizens of the Alliance, I know the impression that I, and many of my brethren, may exude. But I swear by the Holy Light itself that you shall have no need to fear me. In fact, I can personally see to it that you are safely transported back to Azuremyst Isle without any delay. I simply needed to remove you from Arathi at that point in time, and Ariden was quick to agree."

"Ariden?" Anastaisya interrupted. "You speak of de druid, Ariden?"

The elf's face softened slightly. "Indeed. He is also a member of the Argent Crusade, and we had the pleasure of acquainting in Northrend several years past. In fact, he is my uncle."

Anastaisya merely stared at him as he spoke further.

"My mother's sister has always been a very open-minded individual, and, one day, she paid to fly herself all the way to Dalaran as to visit me. It just so happens, that Ariden and I were on patrol. She managed to spot me and ran to us. Without a second of hesitation, she had made well sure that Ariden understood that he was attractive, and they eventually grew into a couple. Beore I was fuly aware of the situation, I received word that Aunt Rystia was to be wed to Ariden Moonthistle." He continued, showing no restraint in conversing with a Draenei.

Anastaisya found it becoming gradually more difficult to hold any fear towards him as he spoke to her so freely. Eventually, his story concluded, and she felt compelled to say something to him to fill the residual silence. She hadn't truly said more than a handful of words to this elf since he had saved her life, and the guilt had become very apparent to her.

"Dank you," was all she could muster, before her eyes began to grow full and salted yet again. Her grief and anguish, as well as gratefulness and relief, had pushed her beyond the capacity of her emotional reservoir, and how the dam before her was breaking.

Several drops of water spilled down her cheeks as she lay there, a vein of raw feeling, needing so terribly for her memories of Arathi to be mined from her. The elf easily witnessed her necessities and rested his hand on her cheek before brushing away a tear with his thumb. His head was tilted slightly on its axis, as to let him look more directly into her eyes.

"Lyran Sunfall," he spoke gently. The Draenei simply looked at him in confusion before he followed his statement. "My name," he explained evenly, chuckling low in his throat. Anastaisya smiled brightly.

"Lyran… It feels good to have a name to put to you," she sighed.

_Him too...just so...different, but I can't bring myself to dislike him._

Lyran laughed quietly again, to which she raised an eyebrow. "Your accent, coupled with the way you explained that…" he trailed, smiling. Anastaisya"s face was still one of perplexity, though, so he finished. "It's a nice sound, but you can be difficult to understand occasionally."

Immediately, Anastaisya adopted a look of shame, but Lyran, with a few words about her being proud of herself as she was, had managed to restore her happiness to her eyes. Lyran then resumed his soothing caressing of her cheek, which kept her mind sated until she finally grew curious enough to question him again. "So… vhere am I exactly?"

Lyran, having forgotten to answer the question previously, laughed at himself softly before answering. "Silvermoon City."

Anastaisya's eyes grew twice as wide, and her trembling fear reintroduced itself.

"V-Vhat?" She yelped.

"Silvermoon City," he stated again, frowning. At this point, Anastaisya was panicking, and moved to leave the bed, only to fold to the floor again. Tears were springing back to her eyes as Lyran collected her in his lap. "No! No! Ana, it's perfectly fine! For as long as no one knows you are here, you shall remain safe," he assured.

Moments later, a still one-handed Lami was up the stairs, Emeryld following behind closely. "Sir Lyran-" she began, but was cut off by a loud knock downstairs on the front door, followed by an angry yell.

"Silvermoon Guard!"


End file.
